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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966262">I Grow Stronger</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwards_Blackbird/pseuds/Backwards_Blackbird'>Backwards_Blackbird</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tied as One [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Ghost (Sweden Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>An impromptu lesson in ghoul anatomy, And so the story goes, Biting, Copia taking the bull by the horns, Dressing Room Shenanigans, Fingering, Ghoul Sex, Gloves, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Nameless Ghouls - Freeform, Newly ascended Copia is horny as hale, Oral Sex, Pre-Slash, Prequelle Era, Sexual Content, Summoning, The teensiest bit of ritualistic cutting - nothing too bad, introductions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,543</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Backwards_Blackbird/pseuds/Backwards_Blackbird</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Two vignettes of Cardinal Copia and the demon Daius (known to you and I as Dewdrop), bookending the beginning and end of the Prequelle tour.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cardinal Copia/Dewdrop Ghoul | Fire Ghoul, Papa Emeritus IV/Dewdrop Ghoul | Fire Ghoul</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Tied as One [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882246</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Audition</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>




    <b>I Grow Stronger</b>
  </p>
  <p>
    <i>Two Vignettes of Cardinal Copia and The Demon Daius</i>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p><b>I.</b> The Audition</p>
</div>It was late July, on an evening sweltering enough to satisfy the Devil himself, that Cardinal Copia was tasked with summoning a lead guitarist.<p>“It’s quite simple, really,” Sister Imperator chattered as she meticulously arranged a circle of votives on the chapel floor. Even her neat greying bob was starting to fray with the humidity. “The Umbrae are a flighty bunch. <i>Hungry</i> to reach the surface. They loiter in Hell’s shallows, hoping to find a crack to squeeze through. Truth be told, many of them show up on their own. You’ve probably seen a few out on the street and not even known it!” She rolled her smoky eyes. “Nashville is full of them.”</p><p>Copia, crouched uncomfortably on the stone floor in his black cassock, had been scribbling sigils with a tube of white chalk paint. He paused. “The Umbrae, Sister?”</p><p>“The ghouls, Cardinal!” she said impatiently. “They’re all shadow demons, low-ranking to no-ranking. Hell’s troubadours. Wicked little musicians, all of them. They scurry from circle to circle, trying to entice somebody, anybody, to listen to them play. And they’re absolutely obsessed with humans.”</p><p>“Hmm. What do we have that they want, exactly?” he asked.</p><p>Imperator stood up and smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt. “Well. Better instruments, for one.”</p><p>“Ah.”</p><p>“Mm-hmm.” One by one, she began to light the circle of candles. “You try playing a Hellish zither straight out of a Bosch triptych for a hundred years and tell me a Fender Stratocaster doesn’t look appealing.” </p><p>The hollow chapel echoed with each of their steps, and a chorus of midsummer insects trilled just outside the stained-glass windows. Copia felt sweat gathering along his hairline, just under his biretta. And it was hardly due to the heat. </p><p>The pressure to play his cards correctly was overwhelming. He had participated in paltry rituals and dabbled in his share of alchemy in the past, certainly. But in Lucifer’s name, he had never summoned a demon; not even one as seemingly insignificant as an Umbra. At this point, all eyes were on him. He had to perform well, and he had to choose wisely. </p><p>How could he ever hope to ascend to papacy if he couldn’t even conjure a decent ghoul? Every step mattered. Every. Step. And the fire he felt as he bewitched an audience could not be left to the stage alone. There was far more at stake here.</p><p>His eyes fixed on a bronze statue of Baphomet on the altar until they lost focus.</p><p>“Cardinal!”</p><p>He blinked. “Yes!”</p><p>Imperator gestured to the circle. “We don’t have all night. Bring him up.”</p><p>“Yes, Sister.”</p><p>The two took their positions at the head of the circle, and very carefully, Copia removed one of his black leather gloves. From his belt he produced a gold switchblade, and the smoothness with which he flicked it open surely belied his nerves. With a wince, he pulled the blade across the flesh of his palm until a modest line of blood rose in its wake. He held the hand over the summoning circle until the blood dripped downward, six small dots onto six perfect sigils.</p><p>“Remember,” Imperator whispered behind him, “you mustn’t feel obligated to take the first that arrives. Be picky, my dear. Choose wisely.”</p><p>“Yes, Sister.”</p><p>“And they will try to convince you! Many of these ghouls moonlight as tempters once they’ve reached the surface. They have silver tongues. They know just what to say. But you know what we are looking for. A grounded presence: one who can stand strong behind you. A tall, fierce ghoul. One who inspires fear and awe!”</p><p>Without a sound, the sigils began to glow. A fire-hearth warmth bloomed from the pulsing light.</p><p>Copia spoke tremulously:</p><p>
  <i> “Veni nobis,<br/>
Umbra Ignis.<br/>
In nomen Luciferius,<br/>
Ostende faciem tuam.<br/>
Veni. Veni. Veni.”</i>
</p><p>Several seconds passed. There was nothing. Copia’s bicolored eyes scanned the room frantically.</p><p>“Ahem. <i>Veni? </i>  Were there four?”</p><p>“Wait,” Imperator insisted.</p><p>Copia said no more and relaxed his stance. After a few more moments of nothingness, he quietly grabbed a roll of bandaging from a nearby table and wrapped it thrice around his bleeding palm. “Ah! Shit,” he said when the wound stung. </p><p>“Shh!”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>Their eyes were fixed on the circle. The crickets outside were deafening.</p><p>After what felt like a shameful eternity, two eerie candle flames flickered into existence at eye level. The flames blinked twice, and a series of transparent black veins coursed outward until a ghostly, humanoid figure emerged. He looked as though he were made of black smoke, of soot and cinder and smog. You could still see the chapel door through his translucent torso, little of it though there was. He was noticeably slight—no taller than Copia, and rail-thin with a tapered waist. His narrow head finished in two short horns, each tipped with a dim yellow glow that echoed his eyes. And last to develop were his spindly fingers, which were long and slender as spiders’ legs.</p><p>Once the creature was whole, he scratched at his gaunt, impish face and gazed around.  </p><p>“Sweet Hell, it’s hotter up here than it is down there!” he said in a remarkably human voice. “How is that possible?”</p><p>Copia cleared his throat professionally and bowed. “Welcome, demon,” he said with great relief that a demon had arrived to greet at all. “I am the Cardinal Copia of our Lord Lucifer’s Clergy. I’ve brought you to Earth today to—”</p><p>“To play for Ghost?” the creature interrupted. “Is that why I’m here? Please tell me that’s why I’m here. I’ve been angling for months!”</p><p>Copia stepped back. “Oh?”</p><p>“Yes, indeed. I know it all! I’m a quick study.” His smile revealed his small, pointed teeth.</p><p>“Well,” Copia said in surprise. “Good to know our music has, uh, extended its reach. To say the least.”</p><p>“I promise you, I’d be a very reliable addition,” the ghoul continued eagerly, his bright eyes widening. “In Hell, I have—”</p><p>“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Sister Imperator interrupted. She drew closer to examine the creature. “I know that voice.”</p><p>The demon tucked his chin as if reprimanded, and the flames in his eyes dimmed. He lowered his voice hesitantly. “Ah… You do?” he murmured.</p><p>“Yes! You played the bass for my Papa Terzo. You’re the fiery fellow who impersonated a water ghoul. You’re done, little one! You’ve had your time.”</p><p>The demon covered his face with one wispy, dark hand. He sighed in defeat. “Okay, okay. Perhaps I have been here before. But Sister, I beg. Those were the happiest months I’ve known in my long existence. ‘The smell of the greasepaint, the roar of the crowd;’ I miss it! The ritual pulled me here again for a reason, I guarantee it.” He paused before adding gleefully, “And I’ve been practicing!”</p><p>Copia held up one hand to interject. “Wait, you played for Emeritus the Third?”</p><p>“I did, Cardinal. Briefly. I finished the last tour.”</p><p>Copia nodded. “I see. Perhaps…” He shrugged in Sister Imperator’s direction. “Perhaps we should give him a shot? I mean, for a ghoul to already know most of the material. That is surely worth something.”</p><p>“Hardly,” Imperator answered blandly. “Listen. This dewdrop of a ghoul was an adequate bass player, to be sure—”</p><p>“Much obliged,” the demon added with a bashful nod. </p><p>“—<i>But</i>, a lead guitarist is a distant role from that. And besides, he’s not what we’re looking for! Fear and awe, remember? There’s no room for an ounce of imposing energy in this little imp. The look is all wrong. We’re looking for new blood. You’ll thank me, Cardinal, trust me.” She threw up a dismissive hand. “<i>Daemonium, apage</i>—”</p><p>“Hold on, now, hold on!” Copia said, then shrunk back under Imperator’s withering glare. “Ah. No need to be hasty. Right, Sister? I would like to see what he can do.” He addressed the demon, who stood up straighter in response to his eye contact. “You play the guitar, as well, I assume?”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>The Cardinal nodded, then stepped to the back of the altar to fetch an acoustic. He handed it to the demon, who eagerly began to tune the strings.</p><p>The creature released a rapturous sigh. “The precision of the tuning up here. It’s just glorious. I could kiss this instrument. What would you like to hear, your dark excellencies?”</p><p>Copia pursed his lips. “Hmm… one of Terzo’s tunes. From The Pinnacle To The Pit.” He clapped his hands once. “Have at it.”</p><p>And so, following an exaggerated preparatory breath, he did.</p><p>In the reverberant stone space, the ghoul was able to coax a remarkably strong sound out of the unamplified instrument. Its strings screamed for mercy under his long, lightning-fast fingers. He threw his head around to punctuate each beat as he clearly audiated the entire group, the memory of his very human triumph fueling every thrash, every pulse, every slide of smoky fingers against steel.</p><p>He missed not a single note, and the uniformity of his tone was otherworldly.</p><p>As he approached the final chorus, the demon arched his back in exaltation, head thrown back and fiery eyes cast toward the ceiling. The pleasure on his face was so obscene, Cardinal Copia had to smile.</p><p>And once he had finished, he threw his arms open. “Eh?”</p><p>Copia released a breath he must have been holding for the last minute. He glanced at Sister Imperator, who crossed her arms in disapproval. </p><p>“Cardinal, might I have a word?” She looked back to the demon. “Pardon us for a moment.”</p><p>Imperator grabbed Copia by the elbow and dragged him behind the altar, while the ghoul remained in the circle, still enamored with the guitar. He tinkered around quietly with the harmonics.</p><p>“This one is trouble,” she whispered. “You have to trust me. He threatens to upstage his superiors. He did the same to Terzo, and he will do the same to you. There are supporting players, and there are mutinous players. And I can tell you this much: he is <i>not</i> a supporting player.” </p><p>Copia, still enthralled by the performance, chuckled in disbelief. “He is fucking excellent. We would turn him down because he’s too good?”</p><p>“He has a lot of confidence. More than an Umbra should,” she said disdainfully and peeked around the side of the altar. The ghoul gave her a friendly wave from afar. “I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him. Which, admittedly, would be pretty far… But beside all that, his look is wrong. He’s a string bean of a beast!”</p><p>Quiet strains of ‘He Is’ met their ears, and Copia’s heart softened. He so loved that song. </p><p>“Sister, with all due respect… You’d be making a mistake to let him go. Listen to him. He’s stage-ready! He has a month to learn the new material, which is plenty for a player of his caliber.” He shrugged. “<i>È tutto qui</i>. Done and done.”</p><p>Imperator clasped her hands in front of her and closed her eyes. “Cardinal. My dear. You do realize why we strip these ghouls of their names, yes?”</p><p>That certainly felt like a pop-quiz. He searched his brain for an answer. “Not specifically. I was never told.”</p><p>She shifted her eyes suspiciously in the ghoul’s direction. “You know to say a demon’s name grants him power, power which compounds. We leave them unnamed to keep them in check. The Umbrae have an appetite for human attention, for recognition. It makes them phenomenal performers… but dangerous allies. Once they’ve had a taste of the attention, of individual achievement, they will run right off and try to make it on their own. And you’ll never hear from them again. Then, before you know it, you’re in the middle of a tour, and back to square one!”</p><p>Copia nodded reluctantly. “Sounds rather a lot like the risk you take in any rock band, Sister.”</p><p>She raised her eyebrows. “Believe me, you don’t want to be caught in the middle of that. You saw what happened to Terzo when his ghouls up and left. It was a shitshow. Of… <i>biblical</i> proportions.” Imperator rubbed her temples as she tried to banish the memory. She continued with careful condescension. “You have to understand. The risk is high enough as it is with these Hellspawn. And this one… this one is a lot to handle. I’m trying to protect you, Cardinal. To set you up for the utmost success. What do you say, now?” </p><p>Genuine though they were, the words stung horribly. They elicited memories of so many similar platitudes in years past, so many turned backs, and Copia could only hold his tongue as he glanced to the floor with a heavy breath. He knew well what had happened during Emeritus the Third’s tour. But he was no Emeritus the Third. </p><p>His dark eyes flicked back up to the ghoul in the circle, this hapless creature who had clawed his way up from Hell—against all odds—to find something better. To fight for what he deserved: something that was his and his alone. If ever there was a chance to prove himself, this was it.</p><p>Oh, yes. There was that fire. </p><p>The Cardinal fiddled with the glove tucked in his belt, removed it and—stinging pain be damned—pulled it over his bandaged hand. </p><p>And then he whispered, with just enough venom on his tongue, “It seems to me this demon is not the only one you do not trust, Sister.”</p><p>Copia turned on his heel and strutted toward the creature once more. With greater confidence, his voice echoed back to him from the vaulted ceiling above. “Demon!” The volume shocked even him. He cleared his throat. “Ah, demon. You play well! It’s very good. And I have written material that would positively…” he pulled his gloved thumbs and forefingers together, “<i>sing</i> under your touch. But I have one question for you, and one question only.”</p><p>Ghostly glowing eyes narrowed. “Yeah?”</p><p>There was a pause so grand, so utterly enormous, that the Cardinal had at least a dozen opportunities to stop himself. But much to the chagrin of Sister Imperator, Copia was resolute as he asked, “What is your name?”</p><p>Imperator’s eyes bugged. “Cardinal!” she barked.</p><p>“I wish to know,” he insisted with feigned innocence.</p><p>The ghoul looked perplexed. His transparent arms wrapped around his thin body. “You never ask our names,” he said quietly. </p><p>Copia stepped forward now with concentrated purpose. The toes of his shoes met the outline of the summoning circle, and he fixed the ghoul with his black-and-white stare. In that dark and unhallowed space, his voice was low as he continued. “They,” he gestured behind him with a flick of his head, “may not. But I do. Tell me your name.”</p><p>A nearly imperceptible grin illuminated the demon’s small fanged mouth. “Daius.”</p><p>“Daius,” Copia returned. And the flames in the ghoul’s eyes swelled as if from the air of a bellows, glittering with intoxicating pride. He held out one gloved hand in invitation, and the demon took it eagerly. “I choose you, Daius.” </p><p>As quickly as that, in the thick July air of the sweltering chapel, a lead guitarist had been summoned. It was with great satisfaction that Cardinal Copia retrieved the ghoul’s silver mask to bring him, once again, into his coveted human form.</p><p>Imperator spread her arms helplessly. “You are being foolish. You do realize you are playing with fire?”</p><p>And Copia’s voice was level as he said, “Oh, Sister. Believe me. I am well aware.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you guys for checking this out! I haven't fallen this head-over-heels for a band in, like, ten years. So discovering the Ghost fandom over the last two months has just been the best thing.</p><p>Honestly, I thought long and hard about who to ship with Copia. But sweet Jesus, he and Dewdrop are so affectionate on stage together, the choice became sort of obvious. I opted to give Dewdrop a proper demon name, since the Era 4 ghouls were only named by the fanbase. Daius is not a preexisting demon from mythology. I waffled between a few Latin D names for way too long, but that one stuck.</p><p>Eyy, speaking of Latin: I have to admit, the extent of my Latin education is pretty much choral diction. So please forgive any grammatical errors in there, especially the incantation (which is effectively "Come to us, shadow of fire; in the name of Lucifer, show your face"). But the most important words to know for my little take on the lore are Umbrae (The Shadows) and Umbra Ignis (Fire Shadow), aka fire ghoul. </p><p>(Also, I'm a professional musician, so this first part sort of unintentionally became a strange PSA about respecting session musicians? I don't know, man, haha. But do. Do respect session musicians.)</p><p>This little work is going to be sort of a bookend format. Part I is right before the beginning of the Prequelle tour. Part II is at the very end. And there, there be smut. So stay tuned. Peace!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Ascension</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part II: The Ascension. It’s March the 3rd, 2020. The tour comes to an eventful close, to say the least. Copia is riding high… and his ghoulish confidant has certainly noticed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><b>II.</b> The Ascension</p>
</div>It was not a complete surprise.<p>But the timing was almost infernally ideal.</p><p>Dear Papa Nihil, who had lived on borrowed time for as long as anyone could remember, was all at once no more. It was the very last performance of a grueling eighteen-month run. The <i>very last</i>, in vibrant and lovely Mexico City. And in a moment, Copia had never been so thankful for Sister Imperator’s guidance. As quickly as the old fool had expended himself and careened backwards off the stage, Copia’s years of obsessive efforts and exhausting work had lifted him—the chosen successor—to power.</p><p>Beneath the fabric of his fitted black suit, goosebumps coursed up his arms as he snaked through featureless backstage halls. The heady aroma of frankincense clung to his gloves, his hair, his skin, and every quick turn around a corner brought it back to him. Each time, he closed his dark eyes and breathed deep. That familiar scent had never given him such a rush.</p><p>When he reached his dressing room, he shut the door quietly and locked it. He didn’t hear the latch. His ears felt as though they were filled with water. Yet even in the privacy of that small, dimly-lit space, he could still hear the muffled hollers of the eager crowd through the concrete block walls, clamoring to uplift his name.</p><p>Copia removed his earpieces one by one, then collapsed against the door.</p><p>And following a throaty exhale, he smiled with immeasurable relief. </p><p>“Shit,” he laughed to himself.</p><p>For the first time, he caught sight of his skeletal face paint in the vanity mirror across the room. It was immaculate, and it was his. For years he had designed it, scrapped it, redesigned it, practiced it silently under low light in the abbey, hoping no errant sisters would see. And now, here it was, effective and official, and so incomprehensibly beautiful. </p><p>He sighed.</p><p>His leather-gloved hand subconsciously descended past his waistline, where it established a steady rhythm between his legs. The man in the mirror’s did the same.</p><p>Never before had he found himself alluring. For so many years he had been told he was nothing: diminutive, unremarkable, undesirable. When he was in front of thousands, now, that was quite a different story. But each time, the cheers would dissipate, and who was left? That old foe, the man in the mirror. And the charade would likewise fade.</p><p>But now, the man in this very dressing room, this man was new: this was no Cardinal Copia. This was Papa Emeritus the Fourth, His Dark Eminence, His Unholiness himself. Never before this moment had he looked so elegant and self-assured. Never before had he felt so complete.</p><p>And never had he felt so unspeakably, hopelessly horny.</p><p>Pure celebratory lust guided his right hand. He savored the friction, his hips thrusting with indulgent slowness, as he loved himself with enough vigor to atone for a lifetime of inadequacy. He grew harder under his own touch. His pulse raced behind his closed eye lids, and his breathing soon followed. He had to make this last. He had to. </p><p>And he would.</p><p>
  <i>Knock.</i>
</p><p>Copia’s eyes snapped open. He waited for two long seconds.</p><p>
  <i>Knock.</i>
</p><p>The two oddly spaced knocks might as well have been a pre-determined code, because Copia had no doubt who was on the other side. Without a word, he unlocked the latch and opened the door.</p><p>With catlike hesitance, Daius’s narrow silver mask peered through the opening.</p><p>Copia, still riding far too high to reach the ground, made no effort to conceal his arousal as he pushed the door wider. The ghoul glanced silently downward and made it quite clear that he had noticed. </p><p>With a wave of his hand, Copia beckoned, “Come in. Come in.”</p><p>And the door was promptly shut and latched again.</p><p>Taking a chance on this Hellish virtuoso had been Copia’s very first act of defiance against Sister Imperator. It had also turned out to be one of the wisest moves of his career. </p><p>Daius had awed hundreds of thousands with his unrivaled theatricality. Onstage, the ghoul was equal parts Vaudevillian comic and guitar hero, playing the fool in exaggerated pantomime just as often as he shredded steel strings like the monster he was. He was reckless, absurd, sensual, obscene—an enormous amplification of everything that was the Ghost project, in the smallest of vessels.</p><p>Onstage, the demon Daius was a fiery force of nature to behold.</p><p>Offstage, he was a spindly creature awkwardly masquerading as a human. And there were times that it certainly showed. </p><p>Daius wrapped his thin arms around the newly ascended Papa’s waist and nuzzled his neck with animalistic fervor. He pulled down his balaclava so that he might latch his teeth onto Copia’s skin in one, then two, then three tender spots. He hummed in satisfaction as he dragged his pointed tongue across the last mark, which sat right on Copia’s thrumming pulse point. Copia rested a hand on the back of the mask, urging the demon to continue his ministrations.</p><p>“You’ve always been my favorite,” Copia said quietly, spilling honesty like a drunken man. He tipped his head back as the ghoul threaded one hand through his brown hair. “From the very beginning. Did you know that?”</p><p>“I had my suspicions,” Daius admitted. And Copia relished the little smile he heard behind the mask. This demon’s pride was a force to be reckoned with.</p><p>Daius’s long fingers ran the length of Copia’s torso slowly, caressing every curve of his waist, his stomach. He trailed back again to rub each of the buttons of his velvet waistcoat, and the frontman sank further into his pleasurable haze. The demon teased him horribly as he pointedly avoided the front of his trousers, instead detouring to palm the backs of his thighs. His legs parted eagerly.</p><p>Daius’s hands raked upward until they reached Copia’s soft lower back, which he gave an affectionate squeeze before yanking his pelvis forward.</p><p>“Motherfucker,” Copia said, his tired lips lazily elongating the ‘f.’ He grabbed the demon’s hips in retaliation and thrusted against him once.</p><p>All he received in response was a sassy flash of tongue.</p><p>Copia grinned. And he lowered his voice as he said, “Why don’t you put that tongue to good use, hmm?”</p><p>He gripped Daius’s necktie and pulled him closer, then lifted his other gloved hand to the demon’s mouth. Daius took it tenderly in his own before wrapping his lips around the thumb. He drew back slowly. As his tongue flicked the tip, his blue human eyes widened behind the silver mask, gazing greedily at every microexpression he could draw from his former Cardinal. </p><p>During their time on the road, Copia had engaged with the demon sexually many times in this tailored vessel, this false form. He had seen those blue eyes dilate and roll back in ecstasy, and he had felt that clever mouth on all parts of his body. But only now did he find himself wondering what this nonexistent man might fully look like, if the mask could be removed and his human form retained. A futile thought, to be sure, for it was impossible. But the very idea was enough to make him strain against his trousers.</p><p>At last, with his teeth now decorating the leather glove in small punctures, the ghoul began to palm Copia’s erection.</p><p>And Copia released the pain and fatigue of eighteen long months in a single moan.</p><p>With deft fingertips, the ghoul unfastened the bottom two buttons of the tight waistcoat, then the fly of Copia’s trousers. Without breaking eye contact, he ran two fingers down the trail of hair beneath the frontman’s navel, pressing lightly against the soft flesh of his belly before moving lower. His spidery fingers appraised Copia’s cock with care and respect, and he ran a gentle thumb along the vein.</p><p>“Fuck,” Copia sighed.</p><p>Daius drew close to drip a honeyed question into his ear. “May I? Papa?”</p><p>Copia’s painted eyes fell shut as he absorbed the very weight of that word. A chill ran through him, straight from the center of his heart to every extremity, and it pulsed like a glowing ember between his legs. He blindly and gratefully embraced the demon’s slim waist with one arm.</p><p>“Yes,” he said with a tremor in his voice. “Yes, you may. Of course.”</p><p>Daius sank to his knees on the dressing room floor and took his tongue to Copia’s cock like a sinner taking communion. His mouth was warmer than an authentic human’s, as the Umbrae were exceptionally hot-blooded. Of the few properties they retained through their transformation, there is no doubt that Copia enjoyed this one the most. When Daius took him fully in his mouth, he was wrapped in a lovely, silken heat, one that threatened to overtake him and send him over the edge prematurely. The demon hollowed his cheeks as he took him deeper.</p><p>Copia caught sight of the ghoul’s reflection in the vanity mirror. His silver-horned head moved slowly, reverently, and he braced himself with his ropey hands on either of Copia’s thighs. In all their times together, he had never seen their image thrown back at him so clearly: a celebrated frontman—the dark pope—and his illustrious ghoul. Before him, on his knees, was the industrious Hellspawn who had become his most trusted associate. Copia licked his lower lip then bit down to withhold a moan, and the taste of the ritual paint on his tongue merely stoked the fires of his pride. </p><p>His heart pounded against his breastbone until the whole of his skeleton rattled with his pulse. In the stifling space, he felt sweat gather at the back of his neck, wetting the tips of his hair as Daius worshipped the tip of his cock. </p><p>His eyes met those of the man in the mirror. </p><p>Suddenly, he reached down and tilted Daius’s face upward. The ghoul’s black-rimmed eyes widened at the interruption, and he licked his lips. “Hm?”</p><p>Copia stared at him for an extended moment. “Come here,” he decided.</p><p>Daius stood, panting. His small shoulders heaved with every ragged breath. The sight positively transfixed Copia, who framed his mask with both hands and brought their faces near enough to almost touch. His mismatched irises scanned the demon’s face, but even he was not certain for what.</p><p>Daius’s blue eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head. “Copia?”</p><p>Without a moment to spare, Copia recited breathlessly, “<i>Absolvo te, Umbra Ignis</i>,” and removed the ghoul’s silver mask. In an instant, the demon’s human form, his clothing, his balaclava, were gone. A ghostly smoke-shadow stood in his place, identical in frame, but entirely bare: the very Umbra Copia had met in the chapel a year and a half prior. His dark veins, visible especially on his slender neck, were ticking with arousal, and the yellow flames of his eyes were bright as stars.</p><p>Daius jumped when he glanced down. “Woah! Fuck,” he said. “How did you…?” He held up his hands in disbelief.  </p><p>Copia smiled with immense pleasure as he greeted him anew. “Hello, Daius.”</p><p>“…<i>Fuck</i>,” he repeated more quietly, and took a few concentrated breaths from his new lungs.</p><p>The demon threw himself into Copia, embracing him ecstatically. He released short breaths against his neck and clung to his chest with one clawed hand. And just as soon as he pulled back, he dove in again and kissed Copia’s painted lips for all he was worth. His hot tongue worshipped his mouth again and again, and after some time, he latched onto Copia’s bottom lip with sharp, affectionate teeth. To the pope’s surprise, the paint did not rub off on the Umbra at all.</p><p>“<i>Merda</i>, you are beautiful,” Copia said with a laugh, and he tentatively placed a hand on Daius’s face. It was like warming his hand over hot coals, and though he appeared cloudlike and wispy, his body felt soft and solid as human skin. It was a strange thing to behold.</p><p>Daius stroked the edge of Copia’s moustache with a singed finger. “I can’t even begin to tell you how good this feels.”</p><p>“I think I have some idea now,” Copia said, catching his addictive reflection once more. “We’re all feeling a little more like ourselves. Why shouldn’t you celebrate, too? Daius?” He drew out the demon’s name slowly, and he basked in the gratified purr it elicited. He had never heard him make a sound like that. “Mmm, that pleases you, eh?”</p><p>Had he the proper composition, Daius would have blushed. He bashfully pinched the bridge of his pointed nose. “You have no idea,” he said, his voice desperately honest.</p><p>The fire-eyed Umbra ran his hand down Copia’s chest, his short claws catching on the velvet fibers. He then ran a finger along the underside of his shaft before enveloping it entirely with his hot palm. He stroked steadily. Copia released a long sigh, and with newfound confidence flowing through him like a drug, he reached between the demon’s legs with one gloved hand. He felt until his fingertips found his warm entrance, an abstract slit that embraced him in unthinkable heat. Copia curled his fingers forward and caressed Daius gently from the inside.</p><p>The demon dropped his jaw and whined on multiple simultaneous pitches. </p><p>“<i>Lucifero</i>, the sounds you make,” Copia praised. “Why in Hell did I not do this sooner?”</p><p>Daius leaned his head back involuntarily, his mouth hanging open while Copia pushed his two fingers deeper. Copia placed his other hand on the ghoul’s narrow waist, steadying him.</p><p>“Fucking Hell, it’s been so long,” Daius said, out of breath. “Sex as a human is not bad, really. But this is…”</p><p>“A bit better, no?” He locked eyes with the ghoul, this creature who smelled of cinders and burning wood, and he saw the purest of Hellfire in his wide pupils. To give his confidant such unthinkable pleasure, to bring him to such a height, to control the flames in his eyes and the cries from his ashen throat… that was power. That was how his new title made him feel. And if he was honest, never had he felt closer to Satan.</p><p>Clearly Daius agreed, for he suddenly gripped Copia’s lapels and requested, “Finish in me? Will you?”</p><p>Copia’s face went blank. “<i>Can</i> I?”</p><p>“Oh, yes. You can,” the ghoul assured with a grin.</p><p>Copia blinked once, slowly. “Well, then. Who am I to say no to that?” He glanced around until he noticed a low couch to his left. He sat down, then gestured to his still shamelessly unfastened trousers. “Guide me?”</p><p>Without hesitation, the eager demon straddled Copia’s lap. His ethereal figure eased slowly onto the frontman’s erection, and judging by his rapturous face, the speed was less for caution and more for enjoyment. His body yielded so easily. He arched his shadowy back to coax Copia’s cock deeper, and Copia was overwhelmed by the heat within him. It felt as though he were being warmed by a licking flame, an intense ray of sunlight, a hot lamp. In the venue’s overactive air conditioning, it was as welcome as it was positively transcendent. </p><p>He could tell Daius did not have long to go. The demon panted lasciviously, his small frame tensing with the exertion of staving off his orgasm. Copia accelerated his thrusts and brought the ghoul’s face to his so that he might lick his transparent lips until they parted. Their tongues met briefly.</p><p>“Copia,” Daius moaned, his voice splintering into a polyphonic kaleidoscope of demonic tongues.</p><p>“Stay with me, <i>caro</i>,” Copia entreated calmly, stroking the demon’s misty tendrils of black hair. “My Daius, my lovely Daius…”</p><p>“<i>Fuck</i>,” the ghoul cursed, his yellow eyes brightening until they were nearly white.</p><p>And in the glow of that white-hot light, Copia embraced a moment of unholy clarity as he took the demon’s face in his merciful hands and rolled his hips. With his fingertips parted by soft, shadowy strands, he said quietly, “Come now, come now. Come for Papa.”</p><p>At once, the line of spherical lights over the two dressing room vanities shattered, startling Copia. The space went dark, save for Daius’s glowing eyes and the fiery points of light on his two horns. The demon squeezed his eyes shut, and the intensity of the light shone through his lids as he convulsed around Copia’s cock. From the ghoul’s throat came a short, primal cry that gripped Copia’s heart and dragged him over the edge, as well. With his teeth sunken into his black-painted bottom lip, he released into the tight heat of Daius’s body.</p><p>In the blackness of the dressing room, a wave of red-orange light pulsed through the demon, beginning at the center of his chest and dissipating at his fingertips. The light cast an eerie glow on the blank walls. </p><p>When the glow had gone, Daius slumped over and laid his weary head on Copia’s shoulder. And Copia, feeling as though he had ascended beyond the stars, wrapped his tingling arms around the spent creature. They sat this way for at least a minute, breathing heavily in the dark silence. The distant crowd, long since parted, could no longer be heard.  </p><p>After a moment, Daius glanced behind him at the blown bulbs. “Sorry about that. Wonder what the venue will think?”</p><p>Copia waved a lazy hand in the direction of the damage. “Pssh. Could have been a blown fuse. …A, uh, very vigorously blown fuse. Whatever, they’ll never know. That was impressive!” he added quickly. He patted the demon’s waist. “You have a good amount of power, Umbra Ignis.”</p><p>“Ha! Thanks to you,” he said, pulling himself carefully from Copia’s lap to curl into a shadowy ball against the back of the couch. His eyes and horns were still the dressing room’s only illumination, following his every motion like a lantern. “No one says my name like you do. No one says my name at all, really.”</p><p>“Oh, of course they do,” Copia reassured as he tucked himself back into his trousers. “It just… may not be the name you want to hear.”</p><p>“<i>Don’t</i>,” the demon warned. He furrowed his brow in the dark. “Fucking Dewdrop, man. Whoever came up with that nickname has a seat waiting for them in Hell. Look at me! What about me says ‘Dewdrop’?”</p><p>Copia laughed. “You pretended to be a water ghoul for months, and you’re very small. Our followers don’t need more of a reason than that.”</p><p>Daius rolled his fiery eyes. “Still bullshit,” he muttered petulantly. He paused before changing the subject. “Did you know Nihil would die tonight? Was that… planned?”</p><p>The dark pope’s mouth twitched once. “You know, I suspected you would ask me that. I did not, and it was not. I couldn’t have timed it better if I tried. It was a hell of a solo, though.”</p><p>Daius’s face lit up. “No joke, that old man could play. He was fucking good!” He then added, with a more melancholy timbre, “<i>You</i>… are fucking good. And I want to thank you for giving me one more chance to do this.” He shifted into a more upright position. “I slayed out there, and all because you insisted on keeping me. You have no idea what you did for me the day you summoned me. All of us down there, this is what we fucking <i>dream</i> of. And I got to do it. Twice!” He paused and looked off. “And I will miss it. I will sorely, sorely miss it.”</p><p>Perhaps it was the very nature of the Umbrae’s obsession with humanity that caused them to speak so like us, and that caused them to feel so like us. The sincerity of his words pierced Copia’s heart like a pin. It was easy for him to forget that his ghouls were not men and women at all, but desperate creatures whose very existence hinges upon recognition, upon reward and praise for their ceaseless work. He smiled to himself. </p><p>They were not so different at all. </p><p>In the flickering darkness, he slid an arm around the Umbra’s small shoulders.</p><p>“No, no, no. Stop that shit. Do not speak like this,” Copia said. He held up one hand to punctuate each word of his next sentence. “You will be sticking with us. You’re not going anywhere.”</p><p>Daius beamed like a beacon, and genuine surprise shone from his face. “Wait, really? Are you serious?”</p><p>Copia nodded. “I will make certain of it.”</p><p>The demon’s shadowy mouth smirked in the darkness, and Copia felt the strangest stirring in the deepest parts of him. It was not a new sensation. It had greeted him in soulless hotel rooms across the globe, in dark corners of the library at the abbey, in his private quarters—anywhere the sleepless ghoul would come to visit in the late hours. He had always tamped it down rigidly when he had felt it before, but this time, he indulged himself; he let it bloom like a warm blaze. It was addictive. </p><p>“I am <i>thrilled</i> to accept, Your Unholiness,” Daius said with great bravado.</p><p>And His Unholiness in question smiled, the light of Daius’s eyes illuminating his painted face in candlelight. “Excellent. I have a great many plans for you. But first… I believe we have some business to attend to. They will no doubt be wondering where we are.” He reached blindly to the floor where he had discarded the silver mask. When his fingertips met the grooves of the sculpted hair, he pulled it to him and held it up. </p><p>It felt like a horrible shame to cover the ghoul again—not unlike forcing a genie back into a bottle. But to his credit, Daius presented himself willingly. He aligned his face with the mask, and Copia looked into the two flames one last time before muttering, “<i>Ego captio te, Umbra Ignis.</i>”</p><p>He knew the incantation had taken hold when the room faded to ink-black.  </p><p>With his hands still on the mask, Copia leaned forward and pressed his lips once to Daius’s human mouth. And he lingered there—perhaps for longer than he had intended.</p><p>After a moment or two, the demon slowly rose and opened the dressing room door. The harsh white light of the hall poured in and revealed his black suit, fully intact, as though no disturbance had taken place. Copia stood and, while clumsily fastening the bottom buttons of his waistcoat, kicked a doorstop under the open door. His vision was flecked with spots as his eyes adjusted to the light.</p><p>As Daius made to leave, he ran a fond hand down Copia’s arm in parting. But he didn’t make it a foot out of the room before he was stopped dead in his tracks.</p><p>The Umbra Aether, looking as though he had been right outside the door for ages, leaned on one arm against the white cinderblock wall. Beneath his mask, his eyebrows raised.</p><p>In response, Daius’s did the same.</p><p>Aether squinted one inquisitive eye.</p><p>Daius blinked twice. And wordlessly, he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a guitar pick, flicked it at the rhythm guitarist, and sauntered off down the hall. Aether watched as the pick clattered unceremoniously to the floor.</p><p>Copia peered around the door frame a moment later. His hair was sticking in ten different directions, there was face paint smeared on his suit, and he could be certain his makeup was streaking with sweat. But his voice came out as smooth and sated as he felt as he addressed his ghoulish visitor. “Yes?”</p><p>Aether cleared his throat. “Congratulations, Papa.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! If you liked what you read, dropping a kudos or a comment would make your girl's day. </p><p>Feel free to hit me up on Tumblr: backwards-blackbird.tumblr.com 🖤 Ciao!</p>
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